The Night of the Never Ending Nightmare
by mudstalker
Summary: Jim recieves a strange warning that Artie's life is in danger. Note: This was a project I started for Halloween. I just now had time to finish it and thought we all needed a little scary story...


The Night of the Never-Ending Nightmare

Disclaimer: I don't own Jim, Artie, or the train.

Jim smiled in appreciation as the sun filtered down through red and gold leaves. A cold, cloudless sky bluer than turquoise stretched over the crimson hills, and the cool October breeze ran playfully through his hair. It was a glorious day, one rarely seen in late October.

"Artie, how far away from Kenmore are we?" Jim asked nonchalantly as they rode down another hillside.

"Oh, about fifteen miles," Artie replied. "We'll reach it just as soon as we've finished crossing the Appalachian river."

Jim grinned at the prospect of riding all day. He knew Artie hated it, but he loved being in the saddle. Jim stole a quick glance at his partner, and found him grinning despite the long ride ahead. Apparently, the wonderful weather was working its charms on Artie.

"James my boy, this country's so beautiful, isn't it?" Artie queried in a bout of enthusiasm.

Jim was about to reply when out from behind a tree jumped a young gunman. A very young gunman. "Give me your money," he firmly stated, "and your horses, or I will shoot the both of you right here."

Jim noticed the youth was trembling in fear. He realized that this was probably his first robbery. What a shame. "Listen here..." Jim began to reason, but before he could say anything else a twig snapped in the breeze behind the gunman. "Ya!" he yelped and with a BLAM the gun went off. Terrified, the young man dropped the gun and ran off into the wilderness.

"Shall we teach him a lesson, Artie?" asked Jim, game for anything on this fine day. But Artemus did not reply. "Artie?" Jim asked again, a strange feeling beginning to come over him. Quickly, he turned his horse Black Jack around, and he saw the man who was like a brother to him sprawled out in a pile of leaves.

Artie's face had already gone a deadly white, contrasting frighteningly with his black sweater he wore for disguises. Blood oozed out from a gaping hole in his chest, where the young gunman's heedless aim had been true. Jim leapt off his horse and knelt down beside Artie, putting his blue jacket over the bullet hole to try and stop the flood. "Artie, stay with me!" he commanded, his voice sounding overly harsh in his terror of loosing his best friend. Artie grinned as he looked at Jim, his eyes unfocused.

"Jim, isn't this ironic?" he moaned. Jim looked at his friend and his throat swelled up. He didn't have the heart to tell him not to talk.

"What's ironic, Artie?" asked Jim when he had control over the muscles in his throat.

"It's ironic that I should die among so much beauty. It's the fall, and I just fell like one of the leaves...leaves...and Jim, it isn't fair. We had so much left to do." And with that, Artemus Gordon breathed his last.

Jim just stared and stood numbly, to shocked by what had just happened to know what emotion to feel. And suddenly, he saw a figure out of the corner of his eye. Quickly drawing his gun, he swirled around, and came face to face with a woman standing on the edge of the hillside. The woman was a mere girl actually; about sixteen years of age, and was dressed in a gown as yellow as the sun. The sunlight seemed to drip off her golden brown hair, and she wore a sash the color of honey. The girl looked frail but healthy; she had rosy cheeks and lips as red as an autumn leaf. Her blue eyes sparkled, and though her gaze was kind, it was far from sad. No, the girl's face was anxious. She moved closer to the body of Artemus, and Jim found he could do nothing to stop her. Gently, she knelt down by Artie's side and stroked one side of his cheek with the back of her hand. She whispered something Jim couldn't understand, then stood and demanded his full attention with her eyes. "This must not happen," said the woman. "You must stop it from happening. Artemus is depending on you!" With that, the woman disappeared, and suddenly Jim woke up in a sweat.

The familiar rhythm of the train jolted James back to his senses as he panted from the nightmare. True, Jim had had nightmares before, but never any that he could remember being that vivid; Jim rarely remembered his dreams at all. He shook his head to clear the dream and then got up unsteadily to check on Artie. Sure enough, his partner was snoring away in the next room over. James sighed and yawned, his heart rate going back to normal. He slowly walked into the parlor car and sank down into one of the plush chairs by the draped window. Tired, but still too nervous to go back to sleep, Jim reached up and pushed away the drape, wondering if there'd be enough moonlight to see where they were.

A woman's face reflected in the window was intently staring at him! Quickly, Jim drew his gun and jerked around, the familiar motion fluid and deadly. But there was no one in the car. "Artie?" Jim whispered, feeling a little sheepish at having drawn his gun for nothing. There was no answer; no one else was in the car. Chills creeping up his spine, Jim drew the curtain across the window and chose another chair; this one in the corner so that his back was against both walls.

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The next morning, Jim was shaken awake by a slightly amused Artemus Gordon. "Hey there Jim, have trouble sleeping?"

Jim sighed and shook his head, the memory of why he was sleeping in a chair foggy. He stood and winced as his back cracked; all of his muscles were sore from being tense. Artie frowned in concern as he studied his partner. "James, are you okay?" he asked. Jim looked up at Artie and nodded, a puzzling memory tugging at his brain but slipping away like water.

"Couldn't sleep," he mumbled. "I had...a weird dream or something."

Artie smiled a warm smile and opened the curtains to the parlor car. Warm bright sunlight filtered in through the window, and Artie grinned. "What a beautiful day! We're having such good weather for late October."

Jim felt as if his stomach had dropped out of his body. A strange tingling made his arms feel numb. "Artie, where are we?" he asked panicked.

Artie looked at his partner, concern darkening his features. Jim had a wild-eyed look, and his breathing was fast. Slowly, Artie grasped Jim's arm, hoping that would bring him back to reality. "We're in Nevada, remember? We just solved the weapon's ring case." A flash of sanity flickered across Jim's eyes, and his breathing slowed.

"Yes, Nevada is where we are. I remember now."

Artie gently led Jim to a chair and helped him sit down, relieved to see that some color was returning to his friend's face. "Here, you just relax," Artie stated. "I'll go make us some breakfast, and then we can take a walk or something. After all, we need to stop to take on water, and we haven't been reassigned yet."

At Jim's nod, Artie hurried into the kitchen car. Jim shook his head, the thick fog surrounding his thoughts clearing as he basked in the warm patch of sunlight. "What was I so nervous about?" he wondered as he looked out the window. Try as he may, he didn't quite remember his dream last night... but it wasn't the dream that made him so edgy. It was something else... a woman? As Jim pondered, Artie slid through the door, carrying a tray of tea and some biscuits.

"La specialite de la maison: the au citron et tartine," Artie enthusiastically said as he set the tray down on a footrest in front of Jim. "Tea will calm your nerves, and the biscuits will settle well." Artie dragged another chair over and set it across from Jim.

"Thanks for breakfast, Artie," said Jim, his voice sounding calm and mostly normal. Artie grinned and lifted the silver tea cup in a mock toast. Jim grinned and lifted up his glass as well, the highly polished surface reflecting the door to the kitchen car. There was a figure standing in the doorway.

Jim dropped his cup and jumped up, shaking like a leaf all over. Artie also jumped forward, grabbing Jim's arm again in worried concern.

"Jim, are you all right? You don't look so good," Artie asked. When James didn't reply, Artie ran to the liquor drawer and pulled out a bottle of brandy. He poured a small glass and put it into Jim's hands, and Jim looked down at it in surprise, as if wondering how it had gotten there.

"This is not like me," Jim stated after he had taken a few sips of the amber liquid. Artie gave an experimental smile. "No, this is not like you at all," he replied. Then, his smile turned into a small frown as he asked, "Jim, did your head get hit in the last fight? Have you been blacking out? Are you seeing alright?" Jim's eyes snapped up at that question, and he sneered angrily.

"What, don't you think I can see alright?" he snarled.

Artie cringed, taken aback by the sudden outburst. "Well, I just thought... we were in that huge fight and all... and you have a head as hard as a rock, and... I should be better about checking you for injuries."

Jim accepted Artie's sincere explanation and forced himself to calm down. "There's no reason to get angry," he thought. "Artie's just trying to help... he's being a good friend. There's no reason to feel on edge. So... why am I on edge?" After another glance from Artie, Jim smiled apologetically and said, "I think I must just be tired; I had a really bad dream last night. If you don't mind, I'm going to try and get some rest."

To Jim's apparent relief, Artie merely nodded and let Jim walk by. Artie had learned long ago when it was time to pry and when to let things be. As soon as Jim was gone, however, Artie began to pace thoughtfully. His pacing was abruptly interrupted though by the tapping of the telegraph key. After a few moments of scratching out some notes, Artie typed a short reply, informed Orrin the engineer where they were off too, and made a supply check to ensure that there would be no stopping along the way. Urgent orders had just come through; the agents were to pick up a secret message from an agent located in Kenmore, Virginia. Appellation country. Artie was to be the contact; the agent would know him because he would be dressed in an all-black sea sweater...

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Artie's face had already gone a deadly white, contrasting frighteningly with his black sweater he wore for disguises. Blood oozed out from a gaping hole in his chest, where the young gunman's heedless aim had been true. Jim leapt off his horse and knelt down beside Artie, putting his blue jacket over the bullet hole to try and stop the flood. "Artie, stay with me!" he commanded, his voice sounding overly harsh in his terror of loosing his best friend. Artie grinned as he looked at Jim, his eyes unfocused.

"Jim, isn't this ironic?" he moaned. Jim looked at his friend and his throat swelled up. He didn't have the heart to tell him not to talk.

"What's ironic, Artie?" asked Jim when he had control over the muscles in his throat.

"It's ironic that I should die among so much beauty. It's the fall, and I just fell like one of the leaves...leaves...and Jim, it isn't fair. We had so much left to do." And with that, Artemus Gordon breathed his last.

Jim stood numbly, frowning at the strong and misplaced sense of deja-vu that overwhelmed him. As he stood by the body of his friend, he heard a twig crack behind him. Quickly, he pulled his gun out, but at a blazing glare from the intruder, he found himself rooted from the spot and unable to move. The intruder was a young woman, slight of frame but rosy cheeked, with sun-browned hair and eyes the color of the ocean. She moved anxiously to Artie and whispered something into his ear as she had done once before, and then stood and looked at Jim. "You did not remember last time," she observed.

Suddenly, Jim found that he could not only remember the entire dream, but all the actions that had occurred in the morning as well. "It fades when you wake," she sighed. "Nightmares always fade when there are friends to help you forget them."

Jim stared at the young woman, aware now that she was the one he had seen both in the window of the train and in the doorway to the kitchen car. Experimentally, he worked his jaw and found himself able to speak. "What do you want with me?" he asked.

"I want you to stop this," she replied. "You don't have much time."

Jim shook his head. "Mam, we're in Nevada... I don't understand. We are nowhere near the Appellations."

The girl sighed in sorrow and dropped her head. She began, ever so softly, to fade away. "I was sent to warn you... I made a promise... a promise..." And with that, a rough jolt from the train sent an already tossing-and-turning Jim sprawling out of his bed into the wall.

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"Where are we going?" asked Jim as he stepped blinkingly into the parlor car. The afternoon sun was streaming away in fast patches as the train hurled through the rough Nevada desert.

"We're going on another mission; this one all the way across the states. We're supposed to check in at Washington after it; it seems the secret service wants to give us an award for capturing that weapon's ring!"

Jim smiled at the good news; it had been a while since they had been recognized for anything. "So, we get to be distinguished," Jim mused as he stretched in the doorway. "Hey, it might help us meet some more of those society ladies."

Artie grinned mischievously. "It won't help you with women, James. Have you looked at yourself in a mirror? One look at you and they'd go running for the nearest door."

Jim shook his head in amusement and walked towards the small wall-mirror, his hands running through his hair in order to straiten his appearance. Still semi-amused, he looked at his face in the mirror. A woman with piercing blue eyes was staring back.

Artie looked up in surprise as Jim jumped back, his face filled with an emotion rarely seen in James West... fear. Artie now definitely knew that something was wrong with his partner, but he kept his voice cool and light. "Gee, Jim, I didn't think you looked _that_ bad," he stated. "Look, why don't you come over here and help me with these charts. We need to follow the best trail."

Jim stiffly walked over to Artie and peered over his shoulder, his eyes still panicked. "Where are we going now?" he asked quietly. Artie, still exuding impressive calmness, replied, "The Appellation mountains. Seems that there is an agent in Kenmore who has a document that is very important to us... and we've to pick up that message. We're the agent's contact."

Jim nodded and, as if from far away, asked Artie what he was wearing to the pick up. Usually, that would have been an odd question, but Artie answered it anyway just to keep Jim calm. "My black sea-sweater," Artie replied nonchalantly. "Why? Does what you were thinking of wearing clash?"

But Artie didn't get an answer. James West, for the first time in his life, had fainted.

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Artie looked at his partner's pale face, feeling a nervousness he rarely felt. This was not like Jim; even when Jim was sick, he toughed it out until he got better or collapsed. But collapsing from being sick and fainting for no apparent reason were two very different entities. Artie was almost sure Jim had a head injury. And if it were a head injury... Jim should have stayed awake. Quickly, muttering to himself in panic, Artie notified Orrin to stop the train at the next nearest town. For the rest of the time, Artie set about waking his friend up. He only hoped that he was not too late.

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Jim stared at the young lady as she gently stepped around Artie's body, moving in the formless way blossoms move when they fall from trees. "Why do you torment me like this?!" Jim glowered as the lady came nearer. She shook her head sorrowfully.

"I cannot warn Artemus of this... you will have to do it. It's the rules."

Jim shook his head in irritation; when he was in this dream state, he could remember everything that had happened both in reality and in his dreams. It was hard to understand what this woman was saying. "Why can't you go to Artemus himself?" he asked.

The girl shook her head. "He would recognize me, and I cannot have him see me." Then, as if to emphasize the importance of what she was saying, she added," _It's the rules_."

Jim sighed again and asked, "Then why do I keep seeing you all over my train. You're not real, are you?"

The lady gave an unexpected laugh. "What is real?" she asked. "I came to you because I couldn't go to Artemus. But I did not take in to account that you do not _remember_ your dreams. You only remember fragments. I am trying to help you remember."

"Remember what?!" Jim shouted exasperatedly. "Remember the death of my best friend each night? Remember the pain I felt when I was sure he was gone? Remember what?"

The young woman blinked at his sudden outburst. "I am trying to help you remember the future."

Suddenly, Jim lost all of his frustration. A cold fear settled in his chest like a dead weight. "This is what will happen?" he asked, dazedly putting together the fact that they were heading to the Appellation mountains this minute with the memories of the previous nightmares.

The woman gently shook her head. "This is what may happen," she replied sadly. Then, she began to fade, along with all Jim's memories.

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The mission was delayed for a day, as Artemus insisted that Jim go see a doctor. The doctor examined Jim and said that he may have hit his head, but there were no apparent effects of a concussion. He advised that Jim not get in any fistfights for a few days and sent him back to the train fit for light duty. Artie, however, convinced that more was going on with Jim than he had let the doctor see, closely monitored his friend. Artie did all the planning and preparation for this trip, in order to let Jim have as much time to relax as he needed. And relax he did, although he didn't let Artie know of the nightmares that plagued him every night on their five-day journey to Virginia. In truth, he could not remember just what his dreams were about. Sometimes, he remembered that the dreams were about Artie dying, and he could remember them vividly, but only for a couple of minutes. As it happened with all of his dreams, they faded away like mist in the sun.

The constant companionship of the strange young lady, however, was always on his mind. Jim shied away from all mirrors now; he could barely stand to polish his saddle, for he knew her face would be in the reflection. Everywhere, he saw her. He saw her out of the corner of his eyes. He saw her in the reflections of his utensils. He saw her in the afternoon shadows that flickered eerily as the train charged through forests and plains. And now they were getting close to Virginia. It was strange, really. Artie never seemed to see the woman. Only Jim. That's when Jim figured he was crazy, and after they delivered this message to Washington, he was definitely committing himself to a mental institution. He only hoped Artie would understand.

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Artie studied Jim with a concerned stare as the two of them prepared for a long ride to the town of Kenmore. Jim was saddling his horse with a determined avoidance of looking at anything shiny. Now and then he looked over his shoulder, but his facial expressions remained unreadable. Artie half-heartedly suggested that Jim stay behind, and was rewarded with a firm no-arguments-about-it shake of the head. "Figures," Artie thought as he got his own horse, Mesa, ready. "I couldn't get him to stay home if there was five feet of snow outside and he had pneumonia to boot."

But the early morning ride seemed to relax Jim to where he was almost himself. Indeed, as they rode along, he was regaining his spirits at an excellent rate. "Maybe he just needed to get out," thought Artie as they rode along. "After all, anyone cooped up in a train for five days would go stir crazy... if they didn't have a laboratory to play with." Neither Jim nor Artie noticed the frail female figure darting from shadow to shadow in the early morning mist.

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Jim smiled in appreciation as the sun filtered down through red and gold leaves. A cold, cloudless sky bluer than turquoise stretched over the crimson hills, and the cool October breeze ran playfully through his hair. It was a glorious day, one rarely seen in late October.

"Artie, how far away from Kenmore are we?" Jim asked nonchalantly as they rode down another hillside.

"Oh, about fifteen miles," Artie replied. "We'll reach it just as soon as we've finished crossing the Appalachian river."

Jim grinned at the prospect of riding all day. He knew Artie hated it, but he loved being in the saddle. Jim stole a quick glance at his partner, and found him grinning despite the long ride ahead. Apparently, the wonderful weather was working its charms on Artie.

"James my boy, this country's so beautiful, isn't it?" Artie queried in a bout of enthusiasm.

Jim was about to reply when a strange feeling began to creep up his arms. "Artie, stop," he said, rearing Black Jack in.

Artie reined in Mesa and looked at Jim, concern in his brown eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Jim shook his head, staring intently at the brush before them. "I've been here before," he replied. "Or, at least we have. Something is wrong."

Artie shrugged and was about to reply when out from behind a tree jumped a young gunman. A very young gunman. "Give me your money," he firmly stated, "and your horses, or I will shoot the both of you right here." Jim could barely breathe. And then he _remembered_.

"Artie, DUCK!" he exclaimed.

Then, several things happened. A twig snapped behind the gunman. The youth's gun went off, startling Mesa and sending him rearing. The gunman ran off in terror, and Jim leapt off his horse. He turned frantically looking for Artie. Then, his heart jumped right into his throat. For there, sprawled out in the leaves, was his best friend Artemus Gordon.

"NO!" Jim cried, his heart ripping in two. "I... it couldn't happen... I remembered!" With that, James ripped off his blue jacket and lunged to his partner, his eyes searching for the fatal wound. But there was no blood. Puzzled, Jim looked up. A young lady was standing over him and his partner.

"He got knocked out when Mesa reared," she explained. "He didn't get shot. He'll be okay. You both have heads like rocks." With that, she smiled and knelt down, her hand stroking the side of Artie's face. "I've kept my promise," she whispered. Then, her eyes shining, she said to Jim, "Thank you."

Jim looked at the lady, his head spinning with everything that had happened. "What is your name?" he asked.

The girl simply smiled; it looked as if she were disappearing into the rays of sunbeams that slanted through the crimson trees. Then, in a voice that was carried far with the breeze, she replied, "My name is Susan Rose Allen."

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A few days later, James and Artemus had collected their message and were traveling on towards Washington, DC. Jim had no more nightmares, nor did he see the strange young lady walking morosely through the train anymore. And yet, he still was not satisfied. At least, there was one piece of the puzzle missing, and that was who was this woman and what promise did she make Artie. Finally, Jim could stand it no longer.

"Artie," Jim asked one night at dinner, a few days after they had made their report into Washington. "Did you ever hear of a woman named Susan Rose Allen?"

Artie practically choked on his soup in surprise. "Susie?! Where did you ever hear about her?" He quickly put his spoon down and stared at Jim in intense interest. Jim just shrugged.

"I heard you mention her in your sleep," he lied.

Artie blushed. "Oh, did I?" he asked sheepishly. Then, regaining his composure, he replied, "Susan was my next door neighbor. We were born the same year. But I didn't even know she existed until I had the measles. I had to stay in my room for days, and my window faced hers. That's where I first saw her. When I was better, I waited for her to come out and play, for I had no siblings and all the kids in the neighborhood thought I was strange."

"Imagine that," Jim interjected, grinning in his usual humor.

"_Anyway_," Artie continued, "one day I finally got up the nerve to ask if I could go and see her. It turns out that she was a very sickly girl. There was something wrong with her lungs that made her unable to breathe dust, and so she couldn't leave the house. It became my habit to visit her every day; I would bring over my school books and teach her reading, grammar, and French. In turn, she taught me how to draw and how to 'dress up.'" At this, Artie blushed all the more. "I began to disguise myself whenever I went over, hoping to fool her into thinking I was a salesman or a window washer, but I never fooled her. When I was accepted into college, I brought over my science books and we learned about chemistry and biology together on vacations. We were the best of friends." Artie looked at Jim and sighed, obviously remembering happier times. "It was the year before I met Lilly. I came home during my winter break and found out that my friend had suffered greatly from pneumonia. She was going to die; she was only sixteen Jim! But I was allowed to see her once before she passed away. She told me..." at this Artie's voice cracked, and Jim shook his head gently, wordlessly saying that Artie could stop if he wanted to. But Artie shook his head and continued, his voice amazingly steady. "She told me that one day she would repay me, that she would save my life as I had saved hers. She promised me that she would save my life. Jim, I think to this day she believed that she was going to live after all. How could I have the heart to tell her then that her promise would never come true?"

Jim merely shrugged, his face turning an odd shade of white and gray. Artie excused himself and headed to his bedroom, leaving the rest of his dinner untouched. Jim finally understood what had happened that day in the Appellation mountains. An old friend had been repaying her promise, and not in a way that anyone would ever believe. As if from far away, Jim heard a voice say, "It'll be our secret." Jim shivered and rose, clearing away the dishes. He too had lost his appetite.


End file.
